writhing in
her mind
another hellscape
trapping anyone
who looks in her eyes
because the eyes are the windows
to the soul

she runs wild through
a forest of
whispering trees
calling out
but never to her

calling for the others
the betters
because she would never
be as good as them

how could they want her?

the trees whisper her name
as a crow flies above
a single feather falls

the train of shadows
moves on
stopping only
for her

she boards it
a single crow feather
as a pass
a boarding ticket
to the end of the world

the ghostly passengers stare
and turn away,
looking out the windows
to the white abyss
of snow

the endless rattling of the train
soothing
but unsettling

a bustling marketplace
when it stops
and she takes a step out the door

here they whisper too
she sees a knife glint
a golden coin falls

the train comes again

this time the pass
a gleaming gold

but now there is no train
only an umbrella
two boots
a raincoat
pouring rain
and a girl
in the middle of it all
the puddles reflecting
who she could've been
and who she was

but never her